


Eden's Flowers

by NotALemon



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Book reading, Budding Love, Crawly is Crowley's Snake, Crawly is a Ball Python, Crowley Paints His Nails, Crowley is Awkward, Crying, Cute, Developing Relationship, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drinking to Cope, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Date, First Kiss, Flower Crowns, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illegal Flower Dealing, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Language of Flowers, M/M, Nail Polish, Napping, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Past Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Conversations, Tea, Teaching, falling, lying, tripping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-07-21 18:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7399780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotALemon/pseuds/NotALemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Crowley runs a flower shop across the street from a bookstore and oh no, the owner of the bookstore (Aziraphale) is hot.<br/>Previously White and Red Roses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red and White Roses

In a flower shop in Soho, London, Crowley was working at the front counter. He stopped arranging a bouquet of flowers to stroke one of the flower petals. “Red Roses for love, white for purity. Together- unity.” He mumbled to himself. With a smile, he added Bells of Ireland. “And luck.” He stepped back and admired his handiwork. “Nice!” 

Of course it was nice. Crowley had been a florist for five years and he would be dammed if he wasn’t the best in all of Europe. All of his arrangements were near perfect and he knew it. Crowley loved his job. Loved it more than he should. But he was itching to leave that day. He had planned on visiting the bookstore across the street, and he wasn’t about to miss it for anything.

It wasn’t that he liked books. He wasn’t too fond of them, honestly. But he had caught glimpses of the owner of the shop from time to time. And if those were the guys who were into books, then he could get into books.

He closed up shop as quickly as he could and tried to look casual as he rushed across the street. The shop was still open, thankfully. 

The bell tinkled merrily. The owner glanced up from the counter. “Ah. Hello.” He said automatically.

“Er, hello.” Crowley glanced at his nametag. “Azira- Azire-”

“Aziraphale.”

“Oh. Uh.”

“Do you have any books you’re searching for?”

Crowley thought of a book and spit out the title. “Paradise Lost?”

Aziraphale eyed him suspiciously before nodding. “An… interesting work. Have you read any of John Milton’s other works?”

“Er, no.” Crowley swallowed and watched Aziraphale find the book. “Are they good?”

“You have to have a specific taste to enjoy them.” Aziraphale found the book in question. “Here we go.”

Crowley swallowed hard. “Thanks.” He managed. “How much?” 

“7.63.”

Crowley paid and made eye contact. He took a deep breath. “Do you get many people here?”

“Not really.”

“Oh.” He paused and looked around. It was a little bland, to be honest. Needed some color. Something to pop. “What do you think about flowers?” He blurted.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “They’re alright, I suppose. Why do you ask?”

“I'm Crowley. I own the flower shop across the street, and I could get you some nice flowers for a good price.”

“Is ‘flowers’ code for something else?” Aziraphale asked, leaning on the counter. 

“No. I swear it isn’t. Just good old flowers.”

“And why would I want some of your… ‘flowers’?”

“They really brighten up a space. And attract customers.” Crowley smiled awkwardly at him. 

“And what will I do in return?”

Crowley shrugged. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“Oh no. If you do me a favor, then I have to do one for you.”

“You really don’t-”

Aziraphale glared at him. “Would you mind going to dinner?”

“I- Sure.”

“Good. You have the flowers, I will pay for your dinner. How does next Saturday sound?”

Crowley’s eyes widened. “S-Saturday? Er, next Saturday is nice.” He stuttered out.

“Then there we go. Do you think you could get an arrangement by then? Or do you need more time?”

“No, that’s enough time.”

“Excellent.” Aziraphale smiled at him. “I expect to see you after you close up shop.”

“Yes. Er, see you then.” Crowley picked up the book and left the shop before he could hear Aziraphale’s response. He rushed to his Bentley and sat in the driver’s seat. 

Then he realized that he had a date. With Aziraphale. The bookshop owner.

He never squealed like a teenage girl. Nope. Not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom. Done and done.


	2. Gardenias, Jonquil, Asparagus Foliage, and Grass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first date- is it even a date?- and Crowley's awkwardness.

Crowley nervously fiddled with the flower arrangement. He had picked the best flowers he could, but he wasn’t sure if Aziraphale would like them. He hadn’t even asked Aziraphale what flowers he liked. Stupid. Stupid!

He went over the flowers he had picked. Gardenias for secret love. Jonquil for returning affection. Asparagus foliage for fascination. He had tied it with some grass, standing for homosexual love. All of it would go over Aziraphale’s head. He was sure of it. Not many people knew flower language anymore. He would be more surprised if Aziraphale did know flower language. 

Now was not the time for dwelling.

He closed up shop quickly and rushed across the street.

Aziraphale greeted him with a wave. “I see you didn’t forget.”

“Forget? How could I? Flowers are expensive.” Crowley internally cringed.

“I suppose they are.” Aziraphale took the bouquet. “They’re beautiful, dear.”

Crowley sucked in a breath. “Uh, yeah. They are.” He hoped he was tan enough that Aziraphale couldn’t see his blush.

Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice. It was probably because he was too busy placing the flowers in a vase on the counter. It was nice. White and clean. “Are you ready to go?” He asked idly after deciding the best way to position the flowers.

“Yes. Let’s go, angel.” He couldn’t stop himself from saying it. It wasn’t completely off. Aziraphale had an almost heavenly presence to him. Or maybe it was just his light curls.

“Lead the way. I have an idea of where we’re going.” 

Crowley opened the door for Aziraphale. The bell rang a goodbye.

They got to the Bentley before Crowley realized he didn’t know where they were going. 

“Er, I forgot to ask- where to?”

“Well, I was thinking of a wonderful place called the Ritz.”

Crowley choked on air. “The- The Ritz?!” He looked at Aziraphale like he was crazy. “Like, the Ritz? Fancy, expensive Ritz?”

“Yes, that Ritz. Why are you so surprised?” Aziraphale gave Crowley a questioning look. “Are you not used to places like that?”

“Well- No, not really. The flowers really aren’t worth that much! I was thinking we could go to some hole-in-the-wall. You really don’t need to do this, angel.” Crowley knew he was babbling, but that wasn’t the point. “I’m not worth that much. My whole shop isn’t worth that much, much less the flowers! I-”

“Don’t worry about it so much, dear. It won’t be that bad.” Aziraphale patted Crowley’s arm. “You need to relax.”

“But it’s so expensive! Don’t spend that much money on me. I’m not worth it.”

“No, I insist.”

“If you say so.” Crowley slouched in his seat. He felt so bad about Aziraphale insisting on paying so much for him. “What if I pay for half? It doesn’t even have to be half. It can be part.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I refuse. You deserve it.” 

“No I don’t! I just gave you some flowers. That’s all.”

“Please, dear, let me do this.” 

“Alright.” Crowley sighed and looked defeated. “Directions, angel?”

Aziraphale gave him the directions to the Ritz. Crowley followed them seamlessly. And they were there.

Crowley almost fainted when he saw the Ritz. It was the most intimidating places he had ever seen. And he’d seen some pretty intimidating places.

“Are you alright, dear?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Yes.” Crowley squeaked. “I’m fine, angel.”

Aziraphale didn’t look convinced, and Crowley didn’t blame him. They walked in and Crowley stiffened. It was so much better than anything he owned. Its only competition was the Bentley, which still paled in comparison.

“You’re gaping, dear.” Aziraphale whispered into Crowley’s ear. Crowley shivered at the close proximity. 

“Oh. right.”

“Is something wrong, dear?”

“You didn’t have to take me here, angel.” Crowley mumbled.

“Nonsense.”

“But-” Crowley slouched again. His earlobes met his shoulders and he looked at his nails. They were painted black to hide the dirt permanently wedged underneath them. The polish was chipping. 

He stared at his nails was the waiter escorted them to their table. 

“Really, dear, are your nails that interesting?” Aziraphale asked.

“Ah. Yes.” Crowley looked up into Aziraphale’s eyes. He felt like slithering away. “If I knew we were going here, I would’ve dressed up a bit.”

“Really? I like it. You look good in black.”

Crowley hoped he was able to hide his blush again. “Uh. Thanks. You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Aziraphale looked at the menu. “What a selection. Right, dear?”

Crowley went to the menu and cringed at the prices. “Yes. Quite the selection.”

“Stop thinking about the prices. It’ll be fine, dear.”

“Oh, alright.” 

Crowley still ordered the cheapest thing on the menu. Much to Aziraphale’s dismay. But Aziraphale didn’t mention it, thankfully.

“Now that that’s over with, tell me- what’s your story?”

“M-My story?”

“If you don’t mind, that is. If you do mind, you don’t have to tell me anything. Don’t tell me anything if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

“Oh. Alright. Uh, I’m Anthony, but I prefer Crowley. Er, I’m 27. I’ve been living in London for about eight years. I have a pet snake named Crawly. I’m currently in the most expensive place I will ever be at in my life.” Crowley left out the part about having to move to London to avoid his cousins Hastur and Ligur. Aziraphale didn’t need to know that.

Aziraphale listened quietly. “Interesting. Now I ought to share something about myself. I’m Aziraphale Fell. Also 27 years old. I have lived in London for five years. I live alone in an apartment above my bookstore. And I can afford the occasional visit to the Ritz.” 

He didn’t sound like he was bragging about it. He just stated it. 

Crowley nodded slowly. “I saw you open the bookstore.”

“What can I say? I love books.” Aziraphale smiled. “What got you into horticulture?”

“Er, it’s always been a passion of mine. Helping things grow and all.” Not to mention his cousins were always destroying things. 

“For some reason, I have trouble imagining someone with your look being a florist.”

“Ah. I get that I lot. People saying I look like a biker. Or a thug.” Crowley laughed. “That’s not me at all. That’s my cousins.”

“Your cousins?”

His heart fell. “Yes. My… dear, dear cousins.” He grit his teeth and balled his hands into fists.

“I see. I’m sorry for bringing them up, dear.”

“No. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s perfectly fine.”

The food arrived. Aziraphale ate in silence for a minute. “Why do you always wear sunglasses?”

“Uh… It’s just a habit.” 

“Interesting. Oh, I just remembered! Are you enjoying Paradise Lost?”

Crowley shrugged. He had been reading it when business was slow. “It’s interesting.”

“Good interesting or bad interesting?”

“Good interesting. It’s something my Uncle’s probably read. He’s a bit of a fan of religious texts.”

Aziraphale’s eyes brightened. “Is he now? He sounds like an interesting man.”

“Ah. Bad interesting, I’m afraid.”

Aziraphale’s face hardened. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He blinked slowly. “Do you- Do you want to know about my family?”

“Only if you want to.” Crowley said.

“Alright. My brothers are a little… eccentric. They don’t live in London, but they act like they could.” He smiled. “I have a lot of siblings. There’s Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, Metatron- I could list them for ages. And those are just my brothers!”

“Wow.” Crowley took a bite of his food. “You sure have a big family. Are you the oldest?”

“Ah, no. I’m closer to one of the youngest. But not the youngest.”

“Interesting. I’m an only child. I couldn’t imagine having all those siblings.” Crowley swallowed hard. He was going to do it. “But my parents died when I was young. So I lived with my Uncle and cousins.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear.”

“No, it’s fine. It was only ten years.” 

“‘Only’?”

“Can- Can we drop it?” Crowley stared at his food. 

“Of course.” Aziraphale looked at Crowley. “Is it good? The food, I mean.”

“Yes. The food’s very good.” It was pretty impressive. “But it’s nothing compared to this one place I ate at in Manchester. It was the best food I’ve ever eaten.”

“Really now? We should go sometime.”

“I can’t remember the name. I’ll remember it tomorrow night. I know it. But it was amazing.” Crowley was grinning.

“Was it? I do love good food.” Aziraphale smiled at Crowley getting pumped. 

“Oh yeah. I’ve eaten at a lot of different places, but that place was the best. The people were nice too.”

And they talked. The rest of the night was nothing but talking and eating. 

Aziraphale paid the bill, even though Crowley almost begged him to split it. He said it was for the flowers, but Crowley was starting to get suspicious.

Crowley drove Aziraphale back to the bookstore. They stepped out of the Bentley.

“That was nice. Wasn’t it, dear?”

“Yes, it was, angel.”

“Do you think that perhaps we could do this again in two weeks?”

Crowley almost smiled like an idiot. He had to keep his cool. “That sounds lovely. Until then, goodbye, angel.”

“Goodnight, dear.” Aziraphale walked into the bookstore.

Crowley was grinning like an idiot. Mainly because he had just gone on a date with a really cute guy. Was it a date? He was going to call it a date.   
He couldn’t wait for the next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. Yes. This is it. The next chapter. Posting won't be as consistent, because I'm lazy.


	3. Cloves and Mushrooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley heard about his cousins looking for him. He didn't take it well.

Crowley was grinning like an idiot when he went home. He was loudly singing some Queen song he heard on the radio. He had just shut the door to the apartment building when he saw Madame Tracy. He groaned internally. He’d never exactly been a fan of hers.

“Hello Anthony.” She smiled, waving at him. Crowley was still smiling. “You seem happy.”

“Ah. I had a great night.” Crowley replied. He wondered when he could get away from the conversation. He was in a great mood and he wanted to keep it to himself.

“Sounds lovely.”

“It was. I’ve got to go.” Crowley had hardly taken two steps when he heard Madame Tracy speak again. He rolled his eyes and turned back to her. “What was that? I missed it.”

When Madame Tracy spoke again, all the color drained from Crowley’s face. “There were a couple young men looking for you.”

Crowley swallowed hard. “Er- young men? Why were they looking for me?” His palms were sweating, but he told himself it wasn’t them.

“Well I asked them the same thing. They said they were your cousins.” She gave him a questioning look. “You’ve gone pale. Do you need to sit down?”

“M-My cousins? W-Was one of them-” Crowley dug his thumbs into his temples, “- tall and the other short?”

“Yes, that’s right. What were their names? Herbert? Hamilton? Hansson?” 

Crowley’s mouth was dry. “Hastur and Ligur.”

“That’s them. Are you sure you don’t need to sit down a spell?” She laid a hand on Crowley’s bicep. He flinched.

“I-I think-” Crowley squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t stand to see the floor tiles swaying. They were ugly enough without having to move. “Where did they go?” He whimpered.

“Well I told them you were out-”

“You what?!” His eyes opened and he gaped at her. 

“I told them you were out. Wasn’t that the thing to do? They are your family after all.” Madame Tracy squeezed his bicep. “You really should sit down. You don’t-”

Crowley closed his eyes again. “Where did they go? After you told them I was out.”

“Well, they went out the door. The short one said something about coming back later.”

“Did he?” Crowley found one of the chairs in the lobby and took a seat. He rested his elbows on his knees. “Damn.” His hands ran through his hair.

Madame Tracy patted his knee. “There there. They’ll be back tomorrow.”

“I don’t want them back!” Crowley shouted. He felt his eyes start to water and he hung his head again. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I just- They can’t have me back.” He flinched at the thought of them finding him.

“Have you back? What do you mean?”

“I’m a little tipsy.” Crowley lied. “Might not want to trust anything I’ve said. I get a little emotional.” He hiccuped.

“Did you drive here? By yourself?” She looked at him like a strict grandmother. “You shouldn’t do that. You could kill yourself. Or someone else.”

“Er. I wasn’t thinking too much. Fine wine and being young. The temptation’s too much.” He shrugged with what he hoped was nonchalance. It looked a little stiff.

Madame Tracy pursed her lips. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“And now I think I should sober up in my apartment.” Crowley slowly got up from the chair. “Thanks for telling me about my cousins. I can’t-” he gritted his teeth, “- wait to see them.”

“You best do that.”

“Yes.” Crowley whipped around the corner. He dashed past the broken elevator and up the stairs to his apartment. He unlocked the door with shaking hands and slammed it shut behind him. His breathing was ragged as he sank to the floor. The tears started flowing.

He stayed there for far too long. When he stood up, he grabbed a chair from the cramped kitchen/dining area and shoved it under the knob. Just for safety. 

And with that, he went over to his wine stash in the kitchen. He grabbed the nearest bottle and twisted off the cap. He slumped to the floor and started guzzling wine from the bottle. It tasted a little salty from his tears. He let out strangled cries between mouthfuls. 

As soon as he finished one bottle, he dropped the bottle on the ground and reached for another. After he drained it, his hands stopped shaking. He rested his head on the cupboard and let out some loud strangled sobs.

He rubbed his upper back. He could still feel the bruises from his Uncle and cousins. There were scars there and he knew it. 

He hated his cousins. Not just Hastur and Ligur. All of them. Hated his uncle for encouraging them to do that to him. They were the bane of his existence. 

His black shirt was stained with wine and he didn’t care. He was surrounded by smashed bottles and he didn’t care. He just didn’t care about anything except for the scars.

“Nngh.” He groaned and pulled himself up. And he shuffled over to his spice cabinet and plucked out ground cloves. Next he went to the fridge and grabbed mushrooms. “Cloves are-” he hiccuped, “- undying love. Fungus is for loneliness and solitude.” He ate a mushroom and decided he needed to sleep.

He stumbled to the couch while he untied his tie. He unbuttoned his shirt but never actually took it off. Instead he face planted onto the white couch and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the angst.


	4. Begonias, Daffodils, and Sweet Peas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things quickly go sour as Crowley tries to avoid his cousins.

Crowley woke up with a killer headache and an awful taste in his mouth. He couldn’t remember what exactly he did, but he knew it wasn’t good, judging by the feelings.

He pushed himself off of the couch and crawled to the kitchen. There were smashed bottles on the floor. He sighed. That explained it. He was confused about the mushrooms and cloves on the table, but he was alright with not knowing why.

So Hastur and Ligur were after him. That was great. His hands were already itching for a bottle. But he wasn’t to the point of day drinking. Not yet, anyways. 

He busied himself watering the numerous plants he kept in his apartment. So much for working out. Maybe he could paint his nails. Yeah. Maybe. He started humming another Queen song.

Maybe he could just stay in his apartment all day. It could be a lazy day. Sundays were made for laziness, right? And what was lazier than staying indoors all day? 

It sure sounded nice.

And then Crowley missed the plant entirely.

Hastur and Ligur would be in the same building. They were looking for him. He couldn’t take a bloody day off. They’d find him if he did. Stupid!

He finished watering and got dressed, seething silently in anger. Why couldn’t he have a normal family? He tried to tie his tie but kept getting it wrong.

He hissed in anger. And he heard a second hiss. Shit. He’d have to move Crawly somewhere safe.

“Hello.” He said, approaching the tank. “Do you have a second?”

Crawly peeked out of his plant pot.

“Okay, so my cousins are looking for me and I need to live somewhere else.”

Crawly hissed a little.

“And I need to take you somewhere safe.” Crowley wrung his hands. “Erm, what do you think? I have a nice cardboard box, and I fed you just last week.”

Crawly didn’t answer. Crowley sighed and picked up the flower pot. “I’ll take you somewhere nice. I’m not sure where, but it’ll be nice.” He rubbed Crawly’s head. Crawly looked happy, so he took it as the okay he needed.

He carefully took out a cardboard box and lined it with newspaper. One of the spare pillowcases was removed from the closet and placed in the box. “Here you go.” Crawly was gently placed in the box and slithered into the pillowcase. He hissed in what Crowley hoped was content.

Crowley sighed and tidied up the glass. No use leaving the place a mess. He turned off the lightbulbs in Crawly’s habitat and removed the thermometer. Finally, he grabbed his keys and the box. Making sure his shades were secure on his face, he walked out into the hallway.

Every step was taking too long. He was afraid that, by the time he made it to his Bentley, he would be too late and Hastur and Ligur would be there to drag him to Hell. 

Almost literally.

He swallowed hard and clutched Crawly’s box closer to his chest. 

He was almost there when he saw them. His blood went cold and froze him in place. He just barely stopped himself from screaming. 

They were just as he remembered. Ligur, short and squat. Hastur, tall and skeletal. Both looked, as he put it, “Born to Lurk”. When he saw them, his scars started to burn. He felt the pain on his back. On his soul.

And he didn’t like it at all.

They hadn’t been able to find him for nine whole years. Nine. And then they found him.

It was Ligur who first saw him. He turned to shout to Hastur, who stared at him and smiled devilishly. Crowley almost died. 

His instincts kicked in and he fled for his car, still clutching Crawly’s box. He got in and not so gently placed Crawly’s box in his lap. He gassed it and drove as far away as he could.

He started sobbing a block away.

Pathetic. He knew it was. He couldn’t help himself. Hastur and Ligur Demonosopher, the people who made his life Hell, had found him after nine years of hiding. He drove aimlessly until he was sure he had lost them. When he was, he knew exactly where he was going.

The flower shop was a welcome sight. Softer on the eyes than his cousins, and much more welcoming. He just needed to stop by to pick up a couple things. 

He ran in and looked around wildly for what he had. He saw a couple wilted flowers that would have to do. “Begonias for beware. Er, what else- daffodil? Hmm… uncertainty, respect- sure. Sweet pea? Why- oh. I’m sure she won’t notice. I need the gratitude.” He mumbled to himself. He arranged the three flowers quickly and dashed out the door. As an afterthought, he took Crawly out of the Bentley.

“Please be awake.” He quietly chanted, knocking on the door. “Please be awake. Please be awake. Please-” 

The door was opened by a confused Aziraphale. “Crowley, dear, is that you?”

“Yes, angel. I know it’s early, and we barely know each other but could I maybe please come in?”

Aziraphale gave him a look that insinuated that maybe he’d like to slam the door. But he stepped aside with a sigh. “I have tea.”

Crowley almost burst into tears again. “Thanks.” He said. He realized that his hair was a mess, his tie was backwards, and he was holding a cardboard box in one hand and flowers in the other. He looked about as mad as he felt.

Aziraphale led him to the back of the store. There was a small but not cramped kitchen. It was nicer than his ever would be.

“Alright then.” Aziraphale poured Crowley a cup of tea. “I have to question you now.”

Crowley nodded miserably. 

“First off, what is in the box? Is it… hissing?”

“Oh. That’s Crawly. My ball python.”

“Alright. Why are you holding flowers?”

Crowley thrust the makeshift bouquet towards Aziraphale. “I threw it together so I might have a chance at asking a favor.”

“A favor.” Aziraphale sipped his tea. “After the questioning.”

Crowley nodded again.

“Why are you here?”

“That leads to the favor.”

“Oh. Er, you get a pardon on that one.” Aziraphale paused to look closely at him. “You don’t look very well.”

“I don’t feel well.”

“Why is that?”

Crowley sighed. “My cousins are looking for me.”

“The ones you don’t like to talk about?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“I don’t know! They’ve probably been looking for years and they finally found me!”

Aziraphale eyed him sympathetically. “Why have they been looking?”

“I ran away from home. I took my mom’s Bentley. She left it to me. I took it and left with everything I could take.” Crowley looked down. “It wasn’t a lot.”

“And why are they looking for you?”

“I’m-” Crowley swallowed, “I’m not exactly in their good books. And I might’ve stolen some things from them.”

“Like what?” Aziraphale gave him a stare.

“Er. A Rolex or two. Some money. But just a couple hundred.” Crowley opened the box and stroked Crawley absently.

“Is this when you moved to London?”

Crowley shrugged. “Not really. I travelled for a year. Went to Manchester for a few weeks. Got into some trouble with some Hell’s Angels bikers. That’s when I came here.”

Aziraphale looked into his mug. “Now, why are you here?”

“I-” Crowley looked at Crawly for a moment. “I need a place to stay.”

“And why here, of all places? Why not a hotel?”

“He’s,” Crowley pointed at Crawly, “got needs. And I don’t have that much money.”

“You could always sell your car.” 

“No. I would never sell it. It was my grandfather’s, then my mother’s. It’s really all I have of her.”

“All you have? Didn’t you inherit anything of hers?”

“She hardly had a Will planned out. I was eight. She and Dad were so young-” Crowley cut himself off. He cleared his throat. “Anyway. I only have the car. And I have my dad’s old cassettes.”

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes.

“Crowley, dear.” Aziraphale took his hand. Crowley’s heart beat faster. “I hardly know you. Why would I let you into my home?”

Crowley’s heart fell. “It was stupid. I should’ve known. You have a life of your own. I’m just a man who happened to cross your path.” He stared at Crawly.

“Yes, you are more of a stranger than a friend. However.” Aziraphale attempted to look into Crowley’s eyes. “I am a servant of the Lord. It is my duty to take in those who need it. That means that I will take you in.”

Crowley brightened. “Do you really mean it?”

“Yes. But I do have conditions.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Alright. Please go to bed at a respectful hour. I am a light sleeper. You will need to pay for a portion of the rent, especially the electricity bills. I hope you know how to cook, because I wouldn’t mind you helping with that. Please do all you can to not disturb my customers. There are more I am missing, but I can’t recall them at the moment.”

Crowley set all of that soak in. “Are you sure you want to let me in?” He asked. 

“Of course I will. Now, one last question, if I may.”

“Sure.”

Aziraphale looked at the flowers. “What are those for?”

“It’s a little gift. For the kindness.” He handed them to Aziraphale. 

“Oh. Thank you.” Aziraphale took them and smiled. “Why don’t you go get situated?”

Crowley nodded and stood up. “Er. All my stuff is at my apartment. And my cousins found me.” He stroked Crawly’s head.  
“You owe me, dear.” Aziraphale sighed and also stood. “Alright. Let’s leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I can't update for a few days because I'm going camping with my family. I'll try to update whenever I can.


	5. Blue Violet, Orchid, and Ivy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley went back to Crowley's apartment to get his belongings.

Aziraphale folded his hands in his lap. “Did you have to bring the snake?” He asked, glancing at Crawly’s box. 

“He lives there too.” Crowley said. He looked at the building. “Do we actually have a plan or are we winging it?”

“I was rather hoping you had a plan.” Aziraphale mumbled.

“So we’re winging it.” Crowley drummed on the wheel with his thumbs. “I can wing it. I don’t know about you.”

“It’s simple, isn’t it? I just go in and take everything.

“I need to be there. We can’t take everything. There’s not enough room.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale looked at his hands. “Are you ready?” He glanced up at Crowley.

Crowley sighed. “Better now than never. Eh, angel?”

“I suppose, dear.” Aziraphale opened the door but didn’t get out. “Er, Crowley?”

“Yes?”

“I think you should take off your glasses. They make you stand out and-”

“My eyes will make me stand out.” He tapped the side of his shades. “And I get headaches without these on.”

“Yes, but- oh, never mind.” Aziraphale sighed. “Let’s just get this done with.” He got out of the car.

The corners of Crowley’s lips turned up. “I feel like I’m in a spy movie. The name’s Crowley.” He tapped his shades. “Anthony Crowley.” He smiled broadly. 

“Isn’t this a serious matter?” 

Crowley’s shoulders slumped forward. “Yes. But it’s more fun this way.” He mumbled. Aziraphale patted his arm sympathetically. 

“We’re just getting things from your apartment.” He pointed out.

“And trying to avoid getting caught.” 

Aziraphale nodded in agreement. “Then let’s get on with it.” He grabbed Crowley’s arm and pulled him forward. Crowley thought it must’ve looked comical. A lithe, tall man being dragged by a short, pudgy man. What a picture.

Shadwell was the first person they saw. 

“Aye, ye snake man!” He shouted at them. “Ye have a witch fer me?”

Crowley sighed. “No, he’s a friend of mine.” 

“Hello, I’m Aziraphale.” Greeted Aziraphale. He held out his hand politely.

“Ah! Southern pansy!”

“Pardon?” 

“Yer a southern pansy if I e’er saw one!” Shadwell pointed an accusing black-nailed finger at them. His nails weren’t painted black like Crowley’s. They were naturally black. 

Aziraphale stared wide-eyed at him. “What should I say to him?” He whispered into Crowley’s ear. “Should I say anything at all?”

“I’ll take care of him.” Crowley spoke up so Shadwell could hear. “We’ll be off now. We have things to get done.” He pulled Aziraphale forward. 

“If ye see a witch, tell me. I’ll take care o’ her.”

Crowley nodded. “Yes, yes. All in good time.” He dragged Aziraphale around the corner and let go. 

“Are all of the people here like him? Why is he talking about witches? Should I be concerned about him?” Aziraphale asked, gingerly glancing over his shoulder. Shadwell was mumbling to himself and limped out the door. 

“They’re not all that crazy. A man named Newt lives next door, and he’s alright. Then again, he’s also a ‘Witchfinder’ like Shadwell. And yes, you should be. I am, at least.” Crowley was taking the steps two at a time. Aziraphale could barely keep up.

“Slow down a bit, would you?” He panted, jogging after Crowley. “What do you mean by ‘Witchfinder’?”

Crowley didn’t bother to slow his steps. “He finds, er, ‘witches’ and- I’m not sure what he does when he finds them. He’s never found one.” Crowley smirked. “He thought I was a witch when we first met.”

“Aren’t witches supposed to be female?”

“Apparently not. I think it was because of the nail polish and black shirts.” Crowley got to the top of the stairs and swung around on the handrail. “Hurry up, angel.”

“Why does he hunt witches?” Aziraphale was almost to the top of the stairs. 

Crowley ran up the next flight. “I don’t think he’s all there. You know, mentally.” He looked behind his shoulder. “Half the people aren’t.”

“That’s rude.” Aziraphale panted. “And you need to please slow down.” 

“We’re almost there. Hurry up.” He was already on the last flight of stairs. 

Aziraphale was only on the second flight. He couldn’t see Crowley. “Slow down, dear.”

Crowley leaned against a wall and turned to face Aziraphale. “We don’t have much time. Hastur and Ligur are probably already here looking for me. Just hurry up!” He hissed.

“Alright, I’m here.” Aziraphale sucked in large breaths. He looked down the hallway and froze. “Crowley?”

“Not now. We have stuff to do.”

“Crowley.”

“What?” Crowley hissed at him. 

“There are two people looking at us.”

“Two people…?” Crowley turned his head slowly down the hallway. He paled and froze. “... Oh.”

Aziraphale looked at him. “Are they your cousins?”

“Yes.” He stood rooted to the ground for a few seconds before he started sweating and hyperventilating. “They’ll find me! I have to hide!” He managed. 

“We’ll be fine.” Aziraphale stared at Crowley with wide eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Please,” Crowley whimpered. “Please don’t let them get me.” He shook his head and grabbed at his already messy hair.

“Which one’s yours?” Aziraphale asked quietly. 

Crowley made a small whimper. “3C.”

Aziraphale slipped his hand over Crowley’s. Crowley jumped and retracted his hand. He squeaked.

“Don’t.” Crowley begged. “Please. Just don’t.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks. 

“I won’t. Come here.” Aziraphale stood by the door to 3C. “It’s locked and I need a key.”

Crowley stumbled over and tried to unlock the door several times. He succeeded and immediately ran into the room with Aziraphale in tow. He slammed the door behind him and leaned against it. 

“Now what do we do?”

“Hold on.” Crowley gasped out. He let out another strangled sob and banged the back of his head on the door. “Give me a second.” Tears kept rolling onto his shirt.

“Oh dear.” Aziraphale resisted the urge to touch Crowley’s shoulder and wasn’t sure what to do. “Do you have anything here to make tea? Or coca?”

Crowley whimpered and wiped his face. “You don’t have to do that.” He stood. “We have- We have work to do.” He was still crying. Aziraphale tried to ignore it.

“What do we need to get?” 

“Uh. We need to get the snake habitat.” 

“Where is the snake habitat?” 

Crowley shakily pointed towards the bedroom. 

“Alright. Anything else?”

“No. I need clothes, but I can get that.” Crowley swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Are you sure you’ll be alright? I’m not sure if you should be alone.” He hesitantly opened the door. 

“I’ll be alright. I t-” Crowley stopped himself and covered his mouth. “I need to be alone for a minute, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s alright.” Aziraphale shut the door, still hesitating.

Crowley made sure he was in the room before he had another breakdown. He let the tears flow freely, but never let out an actual sob. They were so close to him. Ready to drag him back to their home. Hell.

He again stumbled over to the wine cupboard and grabbed a bottle. He laughed bitterly as he drank about half of it. Day drinking. Nursing a half bottle a night was more his deal. He looked around the apartment and had an idea. 

The plants filling the apartment looked cheery. He took a swig of wine and stumbled around the apartment, looking for a certain couple plants. Eventually, he gathered the right ones.

Aziraphale stepped out of the bedroom. “I think I have all the snake-”

Crowley handed him a blue violet. “This is for faithfulness.” Next was an orchid. “And this is for, er, refined beauty. I think.” Last was an ivy plant. “This one is for dependence.” He nodded at Aziraphale, who gave him a scared look.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale was holding a snake tank full of snake related items and potted plants. He noticed the bottle in Crowley’s hand. “Have you been drinking?”

“Maybe. But I have plants for you.” Crowley pointed at the plants.

“That’s nice of you, but you need to get clothes.” 

“Clothes? Why don’t I just get undressed?” Crowley winked, though Aziraphale couldn’t see it through the shades. 

Aziraphale shook his head viciously. “No. Go get some clothes.” He commanded.

Crowley sighed and stumbled off to the bedroom. He left the door wide open. Aziraphale could see him rummaging through the dressers. He was mumbling about shirts. Eventually he had a pile of clothes he deemed respectable. He grabbed it and blundered out of the room. 

“Come on, angel.” He said, getting ready to take another drink when Aziraphale stopped him. “You’re the one who had to drive.”

Aziraphale sighed and took the bottle away from him nonetheless. “You should still have some self-respect, even though you’re upset.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and followed Aziraphale out the door. He looked around for Hastur and Ligur but couldn’t find them. He lowered his shoulders and kept following Aziraphale. 

They made it to the Bentley without problem. Aziraphale hesitantly sat in the driver’s seat. Crowley slumped into the passenger’s seat. He reached into Crawly’s box and gave him a good petting. Crawly was happy to see him.  


Aziraphale shakily drove them back to the bookstore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in three days. It might be a little choppy.


	6. Dark Red Roses, Agrimony, and Anthurium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They got to the bookstore without incident. Crowley's sleeping is another story.

Crowley stumbled into the bookstore with a snake in a box, an armful of clothes, and an empty bottle of wine. Aziraphale followed him with the snake tank full of snake items.

They set up the snake tank and Crowley triple-checked it before he let Crawly into it. 

“I think you need to sleep, dear.” Aziraphale said. He had gotten a blanket while Crowley was preoccupied checking the tank. “You’ve had a rough day.” He wrapped the blanket around Crowley, who blinked in surprise.

“You brought me a blanket?” He asked, feeling the soft blanket around him. There was something innocent in his face. A naked surprise.

Aziraphale nodded. “I try to treat my guests well. You look like you need a nap.” He looked into Crowley’s shades. 

“Oh. Right.” Crowley stared at the blanket. “Thanks.” He stumbled over to the couch and laid down. 

Aziraphale sat at the kitchen table and began reading.

Crowley slept soundly for about an hour or so before he woke up in a cold sweat. He shook his head. 

“Are you alright, dear?” Aziraphale asked, looking over his book. 

“No! I mean, I’m alright.” 

“You’re shaking.” Aziraphale stood. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Crowley shook his head again. “No.” He stood, still shaking, and went over to the table. “What’re you reading there?”

Aziraphale showed him the cover. “I’m reading up on flower language. Bought this one a while ago, actually.” He smiled. “Have you meant to say such kind things to me?”

Crowley’s ears burned. “What things?” He asked.

Aziraphale gestured towards the flowers on the table. “Begonias mean ‘beware’. Daffodils are supposed to mean ‘uncertainty’. Sweet peas mean ‘gratitude’. Do you mean it?” His eyes were wide with interest. 

“Er. Yes.” Crowley looked down. “I guess I do. Except the daffodils were supposed to mean ‘respect’, too.” He picked at his nail polish. Damn. He hadn’t brought his polish. He’d have to buy some.

“That’s sweet of you.” Aziraphale said. He smiled at Crowley. 

Crowley sighed. “I know, it’s- what?” His head snapped up to look at Aziraphale. “Did you say it was sweet?” 

“Yes. No one has ever done that for me.”

“Er.” Crowley tilted his head. “Are you sure it’s not creepy?” His heart was pounding in his chest.

“Creepy? No. It’s really quite sweet. Flowers are expensive and the meaning behind them is nice.” Aziraphale pushed up his glasses. The light reflected golden off of the ovals.

“Really?” Crowley’s heart and hopes rose. 

“Why are you so surprised?” Aziraphale looked at him with those light, round eyes.

Crowley swallowed. Truth or lie? “Er.” Truth? “I-” Lie? “- well, my childhood was-” he swallowed again, “- not good. You know. Not good.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s. Crowley resisted every urge to pull his hand away. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I know.” Crowley nodded slowly and swallowed hard. “I have to say something important.”

“You can take your time. I don’t have to know everything.”

“No. This is important.” Crowley took a deep breath. “Dark pink Roses for gratitude. Thankfulness is, er, Agrimony. Anthurium is for hospitality.” 

Aziraphale took a minute to absorb this information. “Thank you.”

“I would get you the flowers, but I’m not sure if they’re in season.” Crowley babbled.

“I think you’re still a little drunk, dear.” Aziraphale stood. “Please get some rest?”

Crowley nodded. “Alright. If you say so.” He didn’t stumble as much getting back to the couch and laid down. The last thing he saw was Aziraphale watching over him. Like an angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind comments. I love reading them.   
> Updates will be a little irregular. Sorry.


	7. Green Carnation and White Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley brought Aziraphale flowers and learns a little about him.

Crowley’s eyes snapped open. There were thousands of hands grabbing him, pulling him down. There wasn’t enough air. He couldn’t get any into his lungs. He struggled against the arms pulling at him.

Minutes passed until he was finally able to get air into his lungs. He sucked in as much air as he could. He let out a strangled sob and kicked off the blanket.

He looked around the bookstore. The sun was starting to shine through the windows and caught the dust particles in the air. It was stunning.

With a shaky hand, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He sighed when he realized his shirt was drenched in sweat. His clothes were on the floor somewhere. Near Crawly’s tank or something. He stood and almost fell.

Muttering under his breath, he stumbled around until he felt clothes on the floor. He felt the pile until he found a t-shirt. That would work. He unbuttoned his sweaty shirt and put on the t-shirt. It felt better. He smiled sleepily and spun around. No use in going back to sleep.

He looked out the window at his flower store. It looked beautiful in the morning light. He slipped out of the door, accidentally ringing the bell on the way out.

It was nice outside. Crowley felt troubled as he ran across the street. He opened the door and ran around the shop again.

There was a wilting green carnation in the fridge he grabbed. He stole a white rose from an arrangement. “Green Carnation for homosexual affiliations. White rose for innocence.” He nodded in agreement and went back to the bookstore.

He opened the door to hear the bell and was surprised to find Aziraphale already awake.

“Hello dear.” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing at this hour?”

“Er. I was getting flowers.” Crowley lamely held up the two flowers. They looked pitiful, but Aziraphale’s face brightened. 

“You brought me flowers?” He asked.

Crowley couldn’t help but smile a little. “Yes. I brought you flowers.” He went to the table Aziraphale was at and laid the flowers on it.

“A green carnation?”

“Yes.” Crowley swallowed hard. 

“Are you a fan of Oscar Wilde?” Aziraphale picked up the carnation and turned it around.

Crowley bit his lip. “No.”

“His followers would wear green carnations on their lapels.” Aziraphale stroked the petals of the flower. “He was interesting.”

“What was so interesting about him?”

Aziraphale gave him a look. “You really don’t know?” Crowley shook his head. Aziraphale sighed. “Oscar Wilde was a well-known man of his day. He was jailed for indecency with other men.”

“Oh.” Crowley looked at the grains of the table. They were so interesting all of a sudden. “Why the carnations, though?”

“He would wear the carnations on his lapel. It became the norm for his followers to as well.” Aziraphale wistfully stared at the carnation. “He was an interesting man, to say the least. Not half bad at writing either.”

Crowley started to trace the patterns he saw on the table. “Really?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t call him the best, but he certainly isn’t the worst.”

“Mm.”

“Is there something wrong?” 

Crowley looked up to see Aziraphale watching him. “Er, no. I didn’t know that about him.”

“It’s an interesting topic.” Aziraphale sat the flower down. “Although what they did was sad.”

Crowley gave him a confused look.

“He died in prison because of his homosexuality.” Aziraphale looked away for a second. Crowley took that second to hide his disgust. “It’s a shame how people judge others because of that.”

“It is.” Crowley paused. “Aren’t you a religious type, though?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“That bunch are the ones who hate the gays.” Crowley cringed at the memories.

Aziraphale straightened in his chair. “Not every Christian is homophobic.” He said. For a second, with the light behind him, he looked like a heavenly warrior about to fight Crowley.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m trying to say that-” Crowley struggled for words and instead dropped his head into his hands. “My uncle is a religious type. Not on your side, but still religious.”

“What are you insinuating?”

Crowley sighed. He threaded his hands through his already messy hair. “I’m saying my uncle doesn’t approve of homosexuals. And it made me uncomfortable for years.”

Aziraphale laid his hand on Crowley’s. “I understand that feeling.” 

Crowley’s heart sped up. He was thankful that his shades covered his shock. “Really?”

“Well yes. Out of all the people in my family, one of them has to be different. I’m that person.” Crowley didn’t say anything. Aziraphale looked down and took his hand away. “I’m sorry. That must be such a shock for you to hear.” 

“No!” Crowley blushed. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Aziraphale stared blankly at him. “You don’t mind.”

Crowley laced his fingers together. “I don’t.” He smiled. “It’s fine. Really.”

“Right.” Aziraphale took a deep breath in and stood up. “I need some tea. How about you?”

“I would love to.” Crowley stared at his hands. “Angel?”

Aziraphale turned to glance at him. “Yes?”

“I-” Crowley’s mouth was too dry. There was so much he wanted to say. “No sugar, please.” He coughed out instead. Aziraphale nodded and walked away.

Crowley sighed quietly and closed his eyes.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m just tired.” Crowley said. He looked out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. Thank you for the comments. It's very kind of you.


	8. Baby's Breath, Primrose, Yellow Roses, Forget-Me-Nots, White Tulips, and Rosemary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley took a moment to make a couple crowns and Aziraphale watched.

Crowley cleaned up the leftover flowers in his shop. He smiled wistfully at them. Poor things. They were a little wilted and lonely. He gently sat them down. They’d have a use.

He cleaned the rest of the shop before deciding it was clean enough. It was always a little messy. There were lone petals and a couple slick spots on the floor. The counter had a little dirt on it. But he liked it a little messy. It was artistic. And he was an artist.  
On his way out, he picked up the flowers, some ribbon, scissors, and some florist’s wire. This was going to be fun.

The bell greeted him before Aziraphale. Aziraphale looked up from his reading and smiled at him. 

“Hello dear. You’ve brought flowers?” 

Crowley shrugged. “In a sense.” He set the items on the table. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’m doing a little something. Making some art.” He sat down and started to cut the florist’s wire. “Though I’m not sure what some of these mean. Mind helping me?”

Aziraphale gave him a knowing little smile. “Not at all. Which ones don’t you know?”

Crowley picked one at random. Baby’s Breath. His least favorite.

“Alright. That one stands for innocence.” Aziraphale held it like it was made of glass.

“And what about Primrose?” Crowley pointed at it.

“I don’t know that one yet.”

It was Crowley’s turn to smile. “It means eternal love. A powerful thing.” He kept cutting the wire while he searched for flowers. “How about Yellow Roses?”

“Friendship, correct?” Aziraphale looked to Crowley. Crowley’s heart fluttered at his eyes. They were wide with fascination and learning.

“Good job. You’re better at this than I was.” Crowley smiled at him and pointed to another flower. “Forget-Me-Nots.”

“Remembrance?” 

“True love.” 

Aziraphale nodded and thoughtfully watched the flowers. “I have to remember that one. What do the White Tulips mean?” He finally bookmarked his book.

Crowley closed his eyes. “One-sided love.” He was satisfied with the amount of wire he had cut and started to cut the Baby’s Breath. “And the Rosemary?”

Aziraphale shook his head.

“Those mean remembrance.”

“Do they now?” Aziraphale’s voice was full of wonder. “Amazing, isn’t it? How there is a whole language for flowers?”

The corners of Crowley’s mouth turned up and his heart sped up. “It really is.” He cut a small piece of wire and wrapped it around the Baby’s Breath. There was a comfortable silence for a couple minutes as Crowley kept adding and wrapping Baby’s Breath, Rosemary, and Primrose to the bundles. 

“What is your favorite flower?” Aziraphale asked quietly.

Crowley paused making the bundles. He thoughtfully stared at a bookcase. “White clover.” He said after a while. “It means ‘I promise’.”

Aziraphale glanced at him. “I like honeysuckle. It has a pleasant smell.” 

“It does. It stands for devoted affection.” Crowley continued to work. He cut a yellow rose and threaded a wire through it. He hummed a line from a song.

“What kind of music do you listen to? You always hum and it sounds nice.” Aziraphale seemed to retract after speaking. Crowley felt lighter when he noticed. 

“I always manage to find a station that plays Queen.” He said, “accidentally” brushing his hand against Aziraphale’s to get the White Tulips. “And my dad’s cassettes. He loved them.” Crowley cut a Tulip and threaded it.

Aziraphale watched him working. It was mesmerizing. The fluid motions of his hands, like he’d been doing it for his whole life. Cut, thread, wrap, add Baby’s Breath, Rosemary, and Primrose, repeat. There was a rhythm.

“What are you staring at?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale looked up. “Your hands have such a flow to them. How many times have you done this?”

Crowley smiled contently. “Thousands. It’s how I take care of the leftovers.” 

“What are you making?” Aziraphale was mesmirized by Crowley’s hands. Crowley kept sneaking glances at him. 

“A little something to brighten up that outfit.”

“‘Brighten up’?” 

“Tartan on cream needs some color.” Crowley gestured towards Aziraphale’s shirt and vest. “Something to make it look nice. And you do love flowers.”

Aziraphale couldn’t disagree with the flowers bit. “I think I look nice.”

“You do look nice. But do you even own a t-shirt?” 

Aziraphale was about to speak when Crowley interrupted him. “That isn’t just for sleeping in?”

“No.” Aziraphale looked off to the side. “Why should I? This is just my style.”

“And it should’ve stayed in the 50s.” Crowley continued to add Baby’s Breath and Rosemary. He was saving the Primrose for later. “Honestly. When was the last time you went clothes shopping?” 

“Just a couple months ago.”

“And when was the last time you tried a new store?” 

Aziraphale’s eyes darted around. “A while ago.” 

“We need to go shopping sometime. Get you a couple things.” Crowley swallowed his joy at the thoughts of going anywhere with Aziraphale. “Unless you want to borrow some of my clothes.”

Aziraphale seemed to blush. “Er, I’d much rather have clothes of my own.” He laced his hands together. “But I would love to go on a shopping trip. It’s been awhile since I’ve gone clothes shopping.”

“Wonderful.” Crowley was surprised that he was speaking. He felt so suave. If only it could always be like that. “How does it look?” He held up the flower arrangement so Aziraphale could see.

Aziraphale looked at it with interest. “It looks wonderful. What is it?”

Crowley smiled from ear to ear. “Watch this.” He cut two pieces of red ribbon and tied one to each end. He placed it on Aziraphale’s head and tied the ribbons into a bow.

“It’s a crown.”

“A flower crown. And it looks wonderful, if I do say so myself.” Crowley started on the other crown.

Aziraphale smiled at him. “You made me a crown.”

“What’s a prince without a crown?” It slipped out before Crowley could stop himself. He froze in fear of what would happen next. 

“All princes need crowns.” Aziraphale made a point to glance at Crowley. “Even if they’re broken.”

Crowley’s breath caught. “I’m a prince?” He asked, hands stopping their threading and eyes pushing his eyebrows up. 

“Of course you are.” Aziraphale touched his shoulder. “You deserve this crown more than I do.” 

Crowley’s heart jumped to his throat. “You’re wrong.”

“One thing you should know about me is that I’m rarely wrong.” Aziraphale stood. “Do you want coca?”

Not trusting his voice, Crowley nodded and looked back down at his work. It took him a while to continue, but he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why not enjoy a cute chapter after all the angst?


	9. Broom, Pansy, and Peony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley went to work and showed his eyes.

Crowley wasn’t surprised when he woke up the next morning to the whole world sleeping. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but the sun was hardly rising. He had slept pretty well by his standards. Hadn’t woken up in the middle of the night. Hadn’t cried. He wasn’t sweating.

He rolled off of the couch and stretched. His neck was painful, but he could deal with that. As long as he had a place to sleep. He checked on Crawly and flopped back onto the couch. His shirt rode up. It was a lazy day. He could tell.

Or it was until he had to go to work.

He groaned and closed his eyes. If he didn’t need the money, he wouldn’t go. But he did need the money. He closed his eyes for a couple moments before he decided to stand again.

The floor was colder than he remembered. The couch looked much more comforting. He shook his head and looked for a clean Eden’s Flowers shirt. 

There were none. He really needed to do some laundry. Oh well. He’d just wear the one he’d worn a couple days ago. No one would notice. 

He didn’t feel like getting dressed just yet, so he didn’t. He wandered around the bookstore instead. 

It was beautiful. There were books and dust everywhere. It smelled like secrets and knowledge. Crowley was surprised Aziraphale didn’t get more customers than he did. It was a wonderful place in all honesty. Maybe people just didn’t like books?

He didn’t know how long he was lost in the sea of high bookshelves. He just knew that, by the time he decided to start looking for books, the sun was up. 

There were plenty of books that caught his eye, but he saw a book he’d always wanted to read. _Frankenstein_. He picked it up and sat on the floor.

Time was irrelevant. He was lost in the words of a long-dead author.

He didn’t realize what time it was until he finished Letter IV. The sun was covered by clouds already. There was going to be rain. This only registered after Crowley realized how incredibly late he was.

He jumped up, messy hair falling in front of his face as he navigated out of the bookshelves. Oh, he was so late. 

When he got back to the couch, he pulled on his clothes without hesitation. He straightened his shirt and turned on his heel to see Aziraphale staring at him. 

“Morning angel.” 

Aziraphale blinked. “Good morning dear. Aren’t you a little late for work?”

“I was reading.” Crowley threw on his shoes and couldn’t see Aziraphale’s blush. “Er, see you after work.” He was already halfway out the door when he said it and couldn’t hear Aziraphale’s response.

Work was slower than normal. He spent a lot of time tapping the counter and wishing he had brought his book. His eyes flitted around the store he had memorized. The walls were a light reddish color and the floor was grey. It would be much more boring if it weren’t for the plants he had watered as soon as he got to work.

He sighed and turned the radio on. It started playing the heavy bass beat of Queen’s ‘We Will Rock You’. Of course. He started sweeping the petals off of the floor until the flower truck arrived.   
Like usual, he restrained himself from buying everything. The flowers were so gorgeous and smelled amazing. Except for the Baby’s Breath. Curse Baby’s Breath. 

He bought the flowers for his orders and a couple flowers for Aziraphale. Broom, Pansy, and Peony. One of each. The deliverywoman gave him a bit of a weird look, but he just smiled at her. 

She was pretty used to A. Crowley’s strange habits. She’d been delivering there for a good three years, and, while his habit of always wearing sunglasses baffled her, she’d grown used to odd things. 

The truck left and he was bored again. He had a buzz of anticipation that time, but it wasn’t enough. A different Queen song was playing as he sat back down at the counter. He drummed on the counter to the beat. There was nothing better to do.

He cleaned the counter, checked on the plants, and struggled to fix his hair (ultimately declaring it a lost cause) until it was time to close up. With a noticeable spring in his step, he went across the street to the bookstore. 

The bell rang and Aziraphale looked up and smiled. It was the kind of smile that made his eyes crinkle and lit up his plump face. Seasonings and tomato filled the air. It smelled great.

“Hello dear. How was work?” Aziraphale turned to the stove and continued stirring.

“Boring.”Crowley fought the temptation to wrap his arms around Aziraphale’s waist. He just barely won and instead stood to Aziraphale’s right. “I brought some flowers for you.” He placed the   
flowers on the counter. “Do you know them?”

Aziraphale glanced at them. “Hmm.” He thoughtfully stirred the sauce. “The yellow flowers are Broom. They mean humility.” He paused to think about the other flowers. “In _Hamlet_ , the Pansy stands for thoughts. What is the Peony?”

“It means bashfulness.”

“Bashfulness.” Aziraphale repeated. “Interesting.” He tasted the sauce and added some pepper. “You’re the bashful one, right?”

Crowley flushed. “How did you know?”

“You’re always blushing.” Aziraphale didn’t look at him. “It’s more than a little endearing.”

“Endearing?” Crowley swallowed hard. “I don’t know if it’s-”

“Oh, it is.” Aziraphale interrupted him. 

Crowley wasn’t sure how red he was. He knew it was more than enough to show through his darker skin. “If you say so.” He mumbled.

“You blush really hard.” 

“You’re observant.”

Aziraphale laughed quietly. It was like a bell tinkling. “It’s just a habit.”

“Is it?” Crowley’s palms were sweating. 

“Yes.” Aziraphale turned to face Crowley and touched his cheek. “Like those sunglasses of yours.”

Crowley sighed. “You really want to see my eyes, don’t you?” 

“If it makes you uncomfortable, no.” Aziraphale started to turn away when Crowley grasped his wrist. 

“I’ll show you. If you promise not to freak out.”

“Why would I?” Aziraphale had this gentle look in his eyes. 

“You’ll see.” Crowley sucked in a breath and removed his shades. He hissed at the bright lights and blinked hard until he could bear it. Aziraphale gasped lightly when he saw Crowley’s eyes. His iris was common enough: a dark brown, almost black, with some flecks of lighter brown. They weren’t surrounded by white. The whites of his eyes were yellow.   
“They’re-”

“Unusual. Disgusting. Strange. Unhealthy.” Crowley rattled on about himself.

“Interesting.” Aziraphale’s eyes were wide with interest. “Do you have Thalassemia?” 

Crowley chewed on his lip. “A mild form. Nothing serious. I just-” he froze. “My meds. I left my meds.”

“What are they for?” Aziraphale’s voice was a little higher than usual.

“Iron supplements.” Crowley cursed quietly under his breath and wrung his hands. “I probably need them.”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to hold Crowley’s wrist and held him there. “You were drinking while on medication?”

“Er.” Crowley swallowed hard and struggled away from Aziraphale. “I’m not supposed to drink a lot. It wasn’t that much.”

“You drank a whole bottle of wine.” Aziraphale firmly held both of his wrists in place. “How often do you drink?”

“Please, angel. It can wait.” Crowley wasn’t about to give up struggling. Aziraphale didn’t let go. Crowley surrendered. “Maybe a glass every day. AndthatonetimeIdrankthreebottles.”

“Three bottles?!” Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “You can’t just drink three bottles of wine on medication.” His grip on Crowley’s wrists was steel. Crowley hung his head in shame. 

He let out a shuddering breath. “I know I shouldn’t have. But I needed to.”

“Have you ever thought you might be an alcoholic?”

“I need to get my meds.” 

Aziraphale let him go. “One thing at a time, dear. How about we eat first, then go?”

Crowley nodded. “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day. I'm impressed and exhausted.


	10. Purple Lilacs and Clovenlip Toadflax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale went to get Crowley's medication.

“Dear.” Aziraphale glanced over at Crowley and folded his hands. “Are we going to talk about your alcoholism?”

Crowley glared at the wheel. “I’m not an alcoholic.” He said quietly. 

“You do drink often.” Aziraphale pointed out.

“That doesn’t make me an alcoholic.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Eyes on the road, dear.” Crowley glared at the road. Aziraphale took in a deep breath. “And when you drink, you drink a lot.”

“You don’t know how much I drink.”

“Crowley, please.” Aziraphale was staring at Crowley. “Tell me your problems.”

Crowley clenched his teeth. “I don’t want to bother you. It’s a long story. Lots of things to dig up that I don’t want to.” He gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands.

“If you do need someone to talk to, you always have me.” Aziraphale laid his hand on Crowley’s and smiled lightly. Crowley shook his head.

“I don’t need to.” He hesitated for a second. “I’ve started a new page, I guess. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s true.” 

The Bentley stopped a block away from Crowley’s apartment. He hopped out of it and looked back to see Aziraphale stepping out. 

“That’s kind of you to say.” Aziraphale said, stroking Crowley’s cheek. “You treat me much better than I deserve.”

Crowley’s knees almost gave out. “Oh.” He breathed, staring at Aziraphale. “I really don’t.”

“You do.” Aziraphale stopped himself and straightened his collar. “We should get your medication.” He lead Crowley by the hand to the apartment. 

“Yeah. We should.”

They walked to the building, Aziraphale’s head held high and Crowley’s usual slouch more prominent than usual. There wasn’t anyone in the building when they entered. Crowley sighed in relief and followed Aziraphale up the stairs to apartment 3C. He saw Newt.

“Hello, Anthony.” Newt waved politely and adjusted his glasses. “Haven’t seen you around the apartment lately.”

Crowley swallowed. “Just been a little busy.” He wasn’t 100% lying, but he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“Have you been visiting your cousins?”

“Er, no. They-” Crowley chewed on his lip, “-They’re out of the country. Visiting family in India.”

Newt nodded in understanding. He didn’t have to nod, but he did anyways. “I _should_ warn you. Two men were asking for you. Saying they’re your cousins?”

“Oh.” Crowley felt the need to unlock his apartment, but it would be rude to leave Newt. 

“Pardon, are you Newt?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yes. Newton Pulsifer.” Newt held out his hand. Aziraphale took it and shook it firmly.

“Aziraphale Fell.” 

Newt looked from Crowley to Aziraphale. “Are you two…?” He asked quietly.

Crowley blushed. “No!”

“Yes.” Aziraphale said at the same time. They locked eyes.

Newt looked at both of them skeptically. 

“It’s complicated.” Crowley said, shrugging a little and still staring at Aziraphale. 

“Yes.” Aziraphale agreed. “We haven’t decided on our status yet.”

Newt nodded again. “I understand. Anathema and I are like that.”

“Mm.” Crowley said. “I would love to talk, but we need to do some things.”

Newt again glanced between them again. 

“Ah, yes. Nice meeting you.” Aziraphale smiled kindly at him and dragged Crowley to the apartment door. 

“Yes. You too.”

Crowley opened the door and pulled Aziraphale into the apartment.

“He seemed nice.” Aziraphale said, closing the door. He turned to see Crowley’s face close to his. “What are you doing, dear?” 

“Do you want us to be a thing?” Crowley asked, biting his lip and staring into Aziraphale’s eyes. He could tell Aziraphale knew he was staring.

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale backed up to a wall.

“Us. Do you want us to be together? In a relationship?” Crowley leaned down to touch noses with him.

Aziraphale’s breath hitched. “Perhaps I do.” He pulled off Crowley’s sunglasses. 

“I would love to.” Crowley hesitated for a second before leaning closer to Aziraphale for a kiss. Aziraphale blushed and clenched his fists. They kissed. Gently. Slowly. Crowley could’ve died the next second and be happy.

Aziraphale broke the kiss. “That was _something_. Wasn’t it?”

Crowley nodded. He felt dizzy. Maybe it was the lack of iron. He smiled like an idiot. “That was excellent, angel.” 

“I suppose.” Aziraphale looked around the cramped apartment. “Where are your pills?”

“Er, bathroom. Let me get them.” Crowley tripped over his feet going to the medicine cupboard. Aziraphale just barely hid his laughter. 

Crowley grappled for the pills and his black nail polish. He rushed back to Aziraphale and pecked him on the cheek. Aziraphale blushed. Crowley punched the air with his fist. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Aziraphale smiled a tiny smile and opened the door. Crowley closed it and locked it.

“Purple Lilacs for first emotion of love and er, Clovenlip Toadflax for ‘please notice my feelings for you’.” 

“Thank you.” Aziraphale smiled at Crowley. Crowley smiled back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No seriously Clovenlip Toadflax is an actual flower.  
> Sorry about the lack of updates.


	11. Mint, Almonds, and Lemon Blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once they got to the shop, Crowley and Aziraphale stumble and then have an emotional moment.

Crowley floated out of the apartment. He was only anchored down by Aziraphale’s hand laced with his own. 

“Are you alright, dear?” Aziraphale asked as he opened the passenger’s side door. “You look a little off. Are you sure you can drive?” 

“I can _drive_ , angel.” Crowley sat at the wheel and stared at it for a couple seconds. He shook his head and started the Bentley. During the drive back to the bookstore, he kept glancing at Aziraphale whenever he could. Everything about Aziraphale seemed different. His face was more alluring. His lashes seemed longer. 

“What are you staring at, dear?” Aziraphale asked, turning to face him.

Crowley blushed. “You.” He admitted.

“I’m not that interesting. Honestly.”

“But you are. You have a nice face.” 

Aziraphale looked down at his folded hands. “I don’t know if you should say that.” He said to them. 

“Why not?” Crowley parked the Bentley but didn’t make any moves to open his door.

“I’m not much of a looker.” Aziraphale looked out his window and went to open his door. “If you want to know the truth, that is.”

Crowley watched Aziraphale carefully. “You’re beautiful, angel.”

Aziraphale opened his door. “I’m too pudgy.” He muttered to the wind.

“Pardon?” Crowley couldn’t hear him, but wanted to. He wanted to hear everything Aziraphale ever said. It was like he was addicted to his voice.

“Oh, nothing to be concerned about.” Aziraphale smiled charmingly. “Just something I need to get done.”

Crowley nodded and stepped out of the Bentley, following Aziraphale into the bookstore. Aziraphale stopped once he got in the door. Crowley, not paying attention, ran into him. 

Aziraphale reached for the nearest thing- Crowley’s arm- to steady himself. It didn’t work, and they both tumbled to the ground.

Crowley laughed nervously, trying to untangle their limbs. Or, more accurately, _his_ limbs. “I didn’t realize you were ready for _that_.”

“I’m not!” Aziraphale’s face was an alarming shade of red. He tried to push Crowley off of him. 

“You sure?” Crowley struggled against his own limbs and finally ended up pushing himself off the hardwood floor, scrambling away from Aziraphale. “I’m always ready for some sex.”

Aziraphale covered his blushing face. “Please, dear. We’ve just started to date- we can’t have sex _yet_.” He mumbled from behind his pale hands.

“I’m sure we _can_.” Crowley licked his lips, looking at Aziraphale from behind his shades. He was still sprawled across the ground from their earlier accident. “I know you’re religious, but can’t you have a little fun?”

“What do you classify as ‘fun’? Is it ‘fun’ like reading or ‘fun’ like sex?”

Crowley bit his lip. It could’ve been seductively, but it really kept him from babbling something incoherent. “The second one.” He knew he was blushing hard, and that Aziraphale could definitely tell we was blushing.

“When did you get so smooth about sex?” Aziraphale buried his face in his stupid sweater vest to hide his incredibly deep red blush. 

“Never?” Crowley smiled at him. “I’m smooth as a cactus.”

Aziraphale finally got up off the ground, looking off to the side instead of at Crowley. “You don’t seem it today.”

Crowley laughed quietly, going over to check on Crawly. He mumbled something to the extent of “hey buddy, here’s a mouse carcass”. Crawly gave him a look that he nodded at. “I know.” Crowley told him.

“What _are_ you doing?” Aziraphale asked him, leaning against the counter, arms crossed and smiling at him. Crowley grinned sheepishly at him, laughing awkwardly.

“Talking to my snake?” 

Aziraphale sat the kettle on the stove, turning it on. “I can see. Why’s that so?”

“Er.” Crowley shrugged. He drummed on the wood of the table Crawly’s tank was sitting on. It was a rhythmless drumming- the type that was only done to fill an awkward silence and trying to think of what to say next. “I don’t get much company.”

“Hm. I wonder why that’s so.” Aziraphale got a bag of almonds out of a cabinet and poured himself a small bowl of them. 

“You’re rude.” The drumming stopped when Crowley started to talk. “I thought you were all Godly and stuff.” He gave Crawly’s head a gentle rub that Crawly fully leaned into, hissing contentedly and closing his eyes. “Was I wrong?”

Aziraphale glared at him. “Please don’t push your luck, dear. Remember where you are.” He leaned his head back, jutting his chin out as if he were at attention. It made him look a little more intimidating and authoritative than his normal prim, proper, and pudgy demeanor. Crowley felt the need to step back in case Aziraphale suddenly morphed into a terrifying, muscled douche that you’d see walking the streets in a wifebeater with his pants halfway to his ankles. 

Crowley dropped his gaze to Aziraphale’s shoes. They weren’t nearly as intimidating as Aziraphale the man. Those white trainers that somehow didn’t look a day over new even though he wore them every day couldn’t be intimidating if they tried. “Yes sir.” He mumbled, fists clenched and eyes squeezed shut. God, he felt like a child at his Uncle’s mercy again.

“‘Yes, sir’?” Aziraphale questioned, dropping his chin to regular height. “Since when do you call anyone ‘sir’?”

“Since I was ten.” Crowley’s voice was shakier than he was comfortable with, and he silently berated himself for showing his weaknesses. For a second, with his eyes closed and silence around him, he was a young teen being scolded by his Uncle for doing something bad. He was shaking all over.

“Oh. Oh.” Aziraphale began to reach for Crowley but stopped himself so that his arms were frozen in the air. “I’m sorry, dear! Are you okay?”

Crowley wanted to answer him. He wanted to tell him it was okay, he was fine, that it wasn’t something he did, but he couldn’t get anything out other than mangled, staccato squeaks. His fingernails dug deep into his palms and his head was pounding.

“Crowley?” 

“I-” he bit his lip hard to hold back his whimper. “I don’t know.”

Aziraphale didn’t know how to react. “What should I do?”

“Talk to me. About anything. Please?” Crowley’s lip was bleeding, but he didn’t even notice. It reminded him even more of his Uncle than he was comfortable with. 

“Er, alright. Let’s- no, that’s not a good one.” Aziraphale chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second. “Why do you have a pet snake?”

“I love reptiles. Snakes are kinda like me. Hated for no reason.” Crowley licked at his lip, tasting the iron. He started to freak out even more.

“Alright. Why’s his name Crawly?”

Crowley laughed under his breath. “It means something that crawls. Like snakes. It also sounds like ‘Crowley’.” 

“That’s fair enough.” The kettle started to scream that it was ready to be made into tea. They both ignored it as best as possible. “Do you want some tea?”

“Tea sounds amazing.” 

Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s hand. “May I?” Crowley nodded. Aziraphale laced their fingers together and lead him by his hand to the kettle. “Tea with lemon in it is even better, but I’m afraid I haven’t got any.” He poured some water into two mugs before putting the teabags in and offering one to Crowley. “I might have some mint.”

“Mint means suspicion.” Crowley took it and started to drink from it, ignoring the fact that it was just hot water and instead just appreciating the painful burn. He sighed in pleasure, his shoulders starting to sink. “Thanks, angel.”

“I suppose that’s incorrect, isn’t it?” Aziraphale laughed a little and returned to eating his almonds.

Crowley smiled softly. “Yes, it is. I believe almonds stand for promise.”

“Do they now?” Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s hand again, taking it as gently as possible and rubbing his thumb over it. 

“Well, I hope they do, as I just told you.”

“What about lemons?”

Crowley knit his brows together. “The blossoms stand for discretion.”

“Like us?” Aziraphale immediately regretted saying it and focused on watching his tea start to darken.

“‘Like us?’” Crowley looked up from his tea at him. “Must we be discreet?”

“Only if you want us to. Are we going to be flamboyant?” Aziraphale finally dared to take a sip from his tea, cringing at the scalding hot liquid. 

Crowley swallowed hard and nodded. “I, er, suppose we can.” 

“If you’re fine with it, then so am I.” 

“I’d love to.”

They stood there holding hands and sipping tea for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it. I DID IT. Sorry about the wait. School and college have been killing me.  
> Thank you for all the kind comments. It warms my lemony heart.


End file.
